Collected Essays, Reviews and Associated What-Have-You.

Monday, 14 March 2011


Tomorrow Will Come And It Will Be Fine

Outside of the stereotypical 'Club 18-30' lager-soaked holiday hooligan millieu, the Balearic islands are known for their soporific charm and sunny disposition; ask a Catalan how they are, and the most likely answer one will receive is the ubiquitous 'tranquilo'. 'Peaceful'. It is then, perhaps, no mere coincidence that this, the first long-play offering from Mallorcan native sons Poomse, positively radiates Balearic idyll. Nowhere is this more evident than on second track 'Anhedonia', an exquisitely-crafted slice of psychedelic slacker-pop in the mould of American indie heroes Flaming Lips, whose 'Do You Realize?' it bears a passing resemblance to. Blissed-out and Beatles-esque, this song encapsulates the Poomse 'sound' better than any other, it's laconic groove and starry-eyed melancholia a perfect advert for the rest of the material contained herein. Singer and songwriter Lorenç Rossello delivers his songs in a warm hispanic drawl which creates an atmosphere of fragility and naiveté, almost putting one in mind of Bjork and the affecting feel of her halting English, though it must be pointed out that Rossello's command of the language is largely flawless here. Rossello's plaintive delivery and the warmly sentimental (though never cloying) nature of his song-writing give Tomorrow Will Come... much of its charm, but another key component of the album is the sheer creativity brought to bear on some of the arrangements, which border on the fearless. Several tracks are positively labyrinthine, leaving the traditional 'verse, chorus, verse' pop structure in the dust, instead typically focussing on structures which more closely resemble a 'beginning, middle, end' narrative form; one section opens the piece which then meanders off on a seeming tangent, until the final section brings proceedings to close. When it works (which is, in fairness, often) the results are magnificent; on the rare occasions that it doesn't, the listener may be left feeling a little lost, though may permit him/herself a sly chuckle at the bare-faced effrontery of it all. It is telling that the more concise pieces such as the aforementioned 'Anhedonia' and the achingly tender 'The Lost Years' are the most immediately memorable of those on offer here, but some of the more challenging pieces reward repeated listens, such as in the case of the sandblasted desert mania of 'Dillanesca' or the woozy (think: 'drunk trying to find the right key to his front-door') 'Mathematic Light'. There is much for the patient listener to uncover. With that in mind, it's worth pointing out that this is in no way a 'Saturday night' record. What it is, is a perfect Sunday morning come-down record, trippy without being hectic. Analgesic. And, in fact, an excellent debut album from a band who clearly have a lot to offer. On this evidence, Poomse deserve a much wider audience – whether they will achieve it or not is debatable. But perhaps that's as it should be. A comforting secret, best enjoyed the morning after a heartbreak the night before.

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